The ships and sailors of old Salem

by Ralph Delahaye Paine

Captain Richard Cleveland

“The arrival of such a vessel from Europe naturally excited the curiosity of the inhabitants of the Cape; and the next morning being calm, we had numerous visitors on board, who could not disguise their astonishment at the size of the vessel, the boyish appearance of the master and mate, the queer and unique characters of the two men and boy who composed the crew, and the length of the passage we had accomplished. Various were the conjectures of the good people of the Cape as to the real object of our enterprise. While some viewed it in its true light as a commercial speculation, others believed that under a mask we were employed by the French government for the conveyance of their dispatches, and some even went so far as to declare their belief that we were French spies, and as such deserving immediate arrest and confinement. Indeed our enterprise formed the principal theme of conversation at the Cape during the week after our arrival.”

Captain Cleveland’s private letters, log, and all other documents found on board were taken ashore to the English admiral by whom he was treated very politely, “but the extreme importance of the blustering lieutenants was in the highest degree disgusting.” After much parleying, the young skipper was given permission to export ten thousand dollars worth of cargo in another venture. He had realized a profit on his vessel without going to the Isle of France and was inclined to think himself well out of an awkward situation when fresh trouble arose because the merchant to whom he sold his cargo fell afoul of the Custom House regulations, which entanglement resulted in the seizure both of the cutter and the goods on board.

Facing ruin through no fault of his own, Captain Cleveland determined to appeal directly to Lord McCartney, governor of the Cape, explaining that the loss must fall on him as the luckless merchant could not make good the losses. “But how to write a suitable letter (to Lord McCartney) embarrassed me,” said he. “I had no friends with whom to advise. I was entirely ignorant of the proper manner of addressing a nobleman, and at the same time was aware of the necessity of conforming to customary rules. In this dilemma I remembered to have seen, in an old magazine aboard my vessel, some letters addressed to noblemen. These I sought as models and they were a useful guide to me. After completing my letter in my best hand I enclosed it in a neat envelope and showed it to the admiral’s secretary who appeared to be friendly to me. He approved of it and advised my taking it myself to his lordship immediately. As the schoolboy approached his master after having played truant, so did I approach Lord McCartney on this occasion.”

The frank and straightforward appeal of the boyish American ship master moved the autocratic governor to interfere and the matter was decided in favor of the petitioner with trifling loss. “The success of my letter was the theme of public conversation in the town,” he commented, “and was the means of procuring me the acquaintance of several individuals of the first respectability.”

Four months passed before he was able to get passage on a merchant vessel bound for Batavia, where he intended looking about for another venture upon which to stake his capital. Finding nothing to his liking in the Dutch East Indies, Captain Cleveland proceeded to Canton. At this port he made up his mind to attempt a voyage to the northwest coast of America to buy furs from the Indians. As soon as this daring project was fairly under way he wrote home in a much more optimistic vein than the circumstances warranted:

“We have every possible advantage, a vessel well calculated for inland navigation, the best articles of trade that can be carried, a linguist who speaks the Indian language as well as his own, and officers experienced in the business. Should we fail of success with all these advantages, it will be very extraordinary ill-fortune, and such as I don’t choose to expect.”

As a matter of fact, his vessel was a small cutter no larger than the Caroline, and his crew as worthless a set of beachcombing ruffians as ever disgraced a forecastle. The captain was twenty-five years old when he set sail from Canton in the winter of 1799, with a cargo of merchandise worth almost $20,000, representing all his cash and credit. His only chart for beating up the Chinese coast was a map drawn by a navigator whom he chanced to meet in port. Until he could weather the northern end of Formosa his course lay directly in the teeth of the northwest monsoon, with imminent danger of being stranded or battered to pieces by the wind. He paid his crew this handsome compliment:

“Having all hands on board twenty-one persons, consisting—except two Americans—of English, Irish, Swedes and French, but principally the first, who were runaways from the men-of-war and Indiamen, and two from a Botany Bay ship who had made their escape, for we were obliged to take such as we could get, served to complete a list of as accomplished villains as ever disgraced any country.”

For a month on end the cutter fought her way up the Chinese coast, her company weary, drenched, and wretched, until the sailors had enough of such an infernal enterprise, and broke out in a full-fledged mutiny. With a handful who remained loyal, including the ungainly black cook previously described, Captain Cleveland locked up the provisions, mounted two four-pounders on the quarterdeck, crammed them with grape-shot, and armed his squad with flint-lock muskets and pistols. A man with a lighted match was stationed beside each cannon, and the skipper told the mutineers that if they attempted to get provisions or to come above the hatches, he would blow them overboard. For one whole day the hostile companies were at a dead-lock, until hunger gnawing, the mutineers asked that they be put ashore believing that once out of the vessel they could dictate their own terms.